by Advocate
"Is there any other way?" The pilot nodded.
Lucy gestured with her chin, to the dresser across the room. "Leigh, in the bottom drawer there. There’s a bottle of good Irish whiskey, get it for me, will you?"
It was all Leigh could do to keep from laughing out loud at these two. RJ played her grandmother’s part perfectly and Lucy seemed to come to life as she talked about the old days. Leigh was glad she’d come with RJ. Lucy was nothing short of an endearing character, and the trucker realized that without women like RJ’s grandmother and Lucy she certainly wouldn’t be doing what she did for a living. Some women simply could not be made to fit into a mold and changed things for those who came after them, whether they intended to or not.
Leigh retrieved the bottle and found a couple of glasses, which she handed to RJ.
RJ glanced at the bottle and gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Whoa, lass! This is good stuff. How in the hell did you get this?"
Lucy smirked. "Leo’s a good boy."
RJ cracked the seal on the bottle and drew in a good whiff of the strong liquor. "Hmm, now that’s lovely." She poured a little into the glasses, handing one to Leigh and the other to Lucy. She winked. "I’ll take mine straight from the bottle, if you don’t mind."
"Yup," Lucy raised her glass in toast, "that’s my RJ."
The trio brought their glasses together before throwing back their drinks.
Leigh hissed as it burned a path down her throat.
RJ hummed her pleasure while Lucy licked her lips and shakily set her glass off to the side. She started to offer Lucy another, when the old woman shook her head.
"I’d better not, RJ. My granddaughter is due this afternoon and she’ll have a fit." She rolled her eyes in irritation. "But you and your lady friend can indulge as much as you like. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion and this is the most wonderful surprise."
RJ tipped the bottle toward Leigh, who shook her head. She was driving, after all, and the last thing she need was to get stopped for DUI. The pilot, however, could think of no earthly reason not to indulge. She never could resist the call of a good bottle of Irish whiskey and unrepentantly swallowed down another healthy swig.
"Leigh, has RJ ever bothered to tell you about the time she actually shot down two Jap fighters?"
Leigh smiled at RJ, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. She pasted on her most innocent look. "Why no. RJ somehow failed to mention that to me."
"Well," RJ coughed as her mind raced to find a way to toss the ball back into Lucy’s court. Finally, she shrugged and did her best to look humble. "That’s because I’m so modest, you see."
"Oh, bullshit!" Lucy and Leigh exploded at the same time.
Leigh bit her lip, realizing once again she was supposed to be talking to RJ’s long dead grandmother. Then again, it seemed like the women were an awful lot alike and she privately figured that RJ would probably end up a lot like Lucy. The old woman had a fire in her that was still burning nice and hot despite her years.
"RJ Fitzgerald, you lying sack of –"
"Lucy! Now be nice."
The old woman shook a finger at her friend. "You know as well as I do that you were so proud of yourself for that, you nearly popped the buttons off your uniform." Lucy’s gaze swung to Leigh. "You see, what happened was this, we ran into a couple of Jap fighters while delivering a plane. But that particular plane had a Tucker gunner’s turret complete with a fully loaded antiaircraft gun. So, Lt. Fitzgerald here decided to turn the plane over to me while she slipped down below and shot those Jap planes right out of the air. I could barely believe my eyes! As far as I know, RJ is the only woman in history to have shot down two fighters. ‘Course no one ever gave her the credit she deserved for doing it. Stupid, no good bastards," she grumbled, then slapped her knee. "But damned if she didn’t!"
RJ scratched her cheek and tried not to blush at the story. She looked at Leigh and shrugged.
Leigh smiled indulgently at Lucy, suddenly glad that the old woman had told the story herself and that her RJ hadn’t disappointed her by not knowing the details. My RJ? Oh, boy.
"That reminds me." Lucy brought her hand to her lips, a look of concentration sweeping over her face as she thought. "In the closet there’s a gray metal box. Could one of you get it for me?" She knew she sounded like a lazy old thing. But she figured the last thing RJ needed was to see her limp across the room. Her knee had never healed completely, and it had only gotten worse as she grew older. Some days it was all she could do to get out of bed and make it to her recliner.
Leigh quickly volunteered and was moving toward the closet before RJ could say a word. She found the box on the top shelf and returned to the old woman, setting it gently in her lap.
Lucy opened the box and pulled out an old, faded photograph. She smiled and handed it up to Leigh, who leaned forward to take it. It was of RJ and her copilot in their heyday. They had their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders and were standing in front of one of the bombers they flew, with grins a mile wide.
"That’s us in forty-three, I think."
Leigh glanced down at the photograph. Her jaw dropped. "Holy shit!" Her eyes flicked wildly between RJ and the picture and her jaw dropped a little further. "Bu ... bu … bu …"
RJ snatched the picture from Leigh’s fingertips. She looked it for a long moment before holding it next to her face, "It’s an old photo, lass, but you have to admit it’s a good one." How in the hell am I gonna get out of this one? Please just buy it, Leigh.
The look on Leigh’s face shifted from amazement to something slightly more complicated. Her brow furrowed and for a moment RJ thought she was going to let the cat out of the bag. But soon a small, if slightly confused smile was tugging at Leigh’s lips. When she looked up from the photo she exhaled slowly, finding RJ’s eyes with her own and holding the stare. "Yeah." Her voice softened and her gaze turned fond. "It’s an amazing picture."
Lucy broke the tension between the women with a loud exclamation as she pulled a small velvet box out of the gray metal one. "Here it is." She placed the box in RJ’s hand. "I always wanted to give these to someone, but I wanted to do it in person and … well … it never happened. Now I guess I can just let you have them back — it’s where they belong."
RJ cracked the lid to find her pilot’s wings. That’s when the dam broke and all the emotions that she had tried so hard to hold back began spill over. She sniffed loudly, unable to stop a scattering of tears from rolling down her cheeks. RJ nearly choked on the words when she softly said, "Thank you."
Just then a loud knock shook the door. "Granny! We’re here!"
Lucy’s eyes went a little round. "Good Lord, it’s the devil children. Hide me."
Leigh tugged on RJ’s limp hand until the woman stood. Her friend looked as though she was ready to burst into more tears, and for a second Leigh had a hard time reconciling this person with the cocky-pilot persona she’d seen only moments before.
Leigh bent down and hugged the Lucy, who remained firmly seated in her recliner. "We need to go now, Lucy. It’s been a pleasure meeting you."
RJ pocketed her wings and leaned over, kissing Lucy on the cheek. "God bless you, Lucy."
"Wait." Lucy cupped RJ’s cheeks and confusion colored her words. "You’re not a ghost?"
RJ shot Leigh a anxious look.
Leigh smiled sadly and went to wait in the hall, giving the two women a moment of privacy. How am I going to stall the devil children? I don’t know anything about children. She reached for the whiskey bottle on her way out, only to change her mind at the last second. It wasn’t like she had enough glasses to go around.
RJ turned back to her co-pilot, covering the wrinkled hands with her own. "No, lass. I’m not a ghost." She grinned broadly. "At least not today."
Lucy looked RJ dead in the eye. "I knew it."
"You were always too smart for your own good." RJ hugged her and leaned close so she could whisper directly into Lucy’s ear. "Max
will be waiting for you, but there’s no need to hurry. Your family loves you too much for you to leave them anytime soon." She pulled back and winked, not caring when her lower lip began to quiver. "Be good."
* * *
The female squirrel shook her head in amazement. "I can’t believe you survived!" The twitching of the body was a sure sign.
The male was sprawled out on his belly, his furry face caked with mud. He shook his head to try and dislodge a particular troublesome chunk of dirt from one of his nose holes. "What do you mean survived?" he gasped. "I was already dead before I stupidly agreed to be bait!"
"True," she agreed happily, tossing her head back and laughing in that devil-may-care way that her mate usually loved. It was strongly reminiscent of Miss Piggy. Without hair. Or lipstick. Or pork.
The male sneered.
"But," she continued cheerfully, reaching down and boxing his ears.
"OUCH!"
"You can still feel pain."
He rubbed his ears.
"So it could have been worse. You could have been Flea’s afternoon snack."
"Snack?" The male puffed up his chest indignantly. Unfortunately, the action only caused him to cough and wheeze. "I’m more than a snack, baby, and don’t you forget it," he spouted cockily.
Out of pity, the female remained silent. Her husband’s skinny-ass legs spoke for themselves.
"Did you see me? Did you? Huh? Huh? Did you?" he exploded, suddenly reliving what he was certain would be the second bravest and most triumphant moment of his squirrel afterlife. Someday he just knew he would drink an entire can of beer without belching even once. But for now, he couldn’t have hoped for more!
"I saw." Her eyes misted over. "You were… it was just…"
"Magnificent," he breathed reverently.
The female had to agree. Even though her plan had failed. It had been a valiant effort. And one she would never forget…
"Okay, here’s what you do … Nothing."
"What do you mean, nothing?"
"Nothing," she repeated impatiently. "Flea is going to see you and come after you." She finished tying a long length of twine around her mate’s bushy tail. "You are simply going to lure her."
"Huh?"
"Like cheese in a mousetrap!" She made a face. "Only more stinky."
"Hey!" he snorted. "I’ve been working here."
His protest was ignored. "Anyway, just when Flea is about ready to eat you, I’ll pull you out of the way with this rope. She’ll lunge for you and fall into the pit. And presto –" The female snapped her fingers. Well, she would have snapped them had squirrels been able to do such a thing. Spiteful God!
"Wait. Stop. Backup." He put his hands on his hips. "Why does it have to be ‘just’ before Flea eats me. Why can’t it be a reeeeeeeeally long time before she eats me? Just to be on the safe side."
The female rolled her eyes. "DUH! If I pull you away too early, she won’t lunge for you and fall in the pit."
"But–"
"Cheese is braver than you."
The male gasped. "It is not."
"Is so."
"Is not!"
"Prove it!"
"I will! Let’s go. I’m ready for that cat."
‘Males,’ she snorted inwardly, nearly pitying her intellectually inferior husband. ‘Can’t live with them. But they make great bait. Once.’
The female squirrel put the twine between her teeth and scurried up the tree. She found the perfect branch and looped the twine over it, hiding herself in a handy hollow. When Flea showed up and tried to eat her mate all she had to do was tug and he would be snatched from the jaws of death. So to speak.
Now they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The male looked up. "I’m wishing Flea would come and eat me and put me out of my misery!" he barked, knowing his mate would hear him, even high up in the branches.
A large acorn mysteriously came flying out of the tree and hit him directly between the eyes.
"Ouch." He began to stagger. "Of all the rotten luck."
Just then Flea padded slowly out of the diner. She was a little depressed. RJ was one of her favorite humans, and she found herself surprised to be missing her. ‘Wait, what was that?’ Flea’s golden eyes narrowed as she spied her squirrel friends. Oh, they’d been great fun! She hadn’t indulged her dark side like this in years! She wondered briefly what it would take to import more rodents into Glory for entertainment purposes. Sure, she could always pester the humans … but generally, their dull wits bored her.
Flea blinked. Was that a trap they had laid for her? Her day just kept getting better and better!
"That’s her!" The female hissed to her mate, giving the twine a little jerk just to make sure he was paying attention. She hated how he tended to tune out at the most inopportune times.
The female smiled. She should have put her mate on a leash years – Her joyful thoughts were interrupted by the rapid shaking movement of the rope in her paws. She looked down to see that Flea had her mate’s entire head in her mouth. The cat was shaking him wildly, his bushy tail waving frantically in the breeze. "Oops."
The larger squirrel pulled hard on the string and the male suddenly popped out of Flea’s mouth.
"Ahhhhh!!!" he screamed. Then he went silent. What had Flea had for breakfast? He licked the fur around his mouth. Ummm… liver.
Flea stopped and cocked her head to the side as she stared at the squirrel, who was now hanging about a foot and a half off the ground by his tail. A piñata? How wonderful. She hadn’t been to a fiesta in weeks!
"Higher! Higher!" the male hollered as Flea happily batted him about the head and shoulders, all the while deftly avoiding the branch-covered pit only inches from her paws.
Fearful that her mate wouldn’t last too much longer — it wasn’t like she had another immediate source of bait — the female pulled the string again, this time putting pulling? her mate just out of Flea’s immediate reach.
Flea hissed, unhappy at the temporary interruption in her play and simply jumped up and grabbed onto the squirrel’s body, swinging them both back and forth as the two animals shook and twisted wildly.
The female glanced down. They were both swinging directly over the pit now! If she cut the twine at precisely the right moment. No. That would be too cruel. Too hideous. ‘But your mate is already dead,’ her mind tempted. ‘And remember the time he got you a tiny squirrel vacuum for your anniversary?’ She began to chew her squirrel nails as the anxiety welled up within her. Trying to push the consequences out of her mind, she brought her razor-sharp teeth to the twine, opened her mouth, and –
"Flea!" Mavis called. "What are you doing to that poor animal?"
Flea immediately let go of the male squirrel, dropping down to the ground just in front of the pit. She pointed to herself as if to say, ‘Who me?’
Mavis frowned. "If you want a ride back to Glory then you’d better come on."
Flea was torn. Then again, she could always come back to the diner tomorrow and visit her new friends. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. Without wasting another second, the cat dashed away from the tree and the squirrels and jumped into Mavis’ waiting truck.
The male whimpered. Most of his body was numb.
The female whimpered. ‘They had been so close! Gently, she lowered her mate to the ground, making sure he cleared the pit. She scrambled down the tree, unable to believe he was still in one piece. Who knew squirrel skin stretched like that?
"I was the best darn bait that ever was," the male said, shaken out of his reverie by the sound of a horn honking in the parking lot in front of the diner.
"You put earthworms and leeches to shame," his wife agreed.
"Damn straight." He stood up and dusted himself off, allowing his mate to untie his tail.
"We need a new plan."
"No shit."
"C’mon. I think better at home."
The male took one step, tripped on the ac
orn that had hit him in the head earlier and fell backwards into the pit, crashing through the thin branches that covered it.
The female’s beady black eyes widened as her mate plunged over the edge and she heard a splash. What had her mate put in the pit? She assumed it was full of razor-sharp spikes, or broken glass or something equally horrendous. What could have made a splash? She inched closer to the edge, not wanting to look inside, afraid she’d see her mate’s bleached skeleton. What if he’d filled the pit with acid?
Then she heard a faint. "Mmmmmm." Overcome with curiosity she peeked inside the hole.
The male squirrel was floating happily in a pool of blue liquid.
"What is that?"
"Wow. This tastes really good." His butt and back stung a little but he ignored it. He took another drink. "It’s almost as good as beer!" I wonder what kind of buzz I could get? And does it have as many calories? A squirrel’s got to eat!
"Ahem."
Lazily, he looked up. "It’s antifreeze."
"Antifreeze?"
"Yeah. I’ve always heard it kills cats."
The female exhaled wearily as the male took another sip. "And just how do you think it kills cats, dear?"
The male swallowed his next drink loudly, gargling it a little as he did the backstroke. He looked up again, blue liquid oozing from the corners of his mouth. "Huh? I dunno." Suddenly he gasped, grabbed for his throat, and fell face down in the pool.
"Huh." She scratched and flicked a tiny flea from her fur. "I wonder if he’ll ever figure it out."
* * *
From the kitchen, Leigh watched RJ sit down on the couch. The tall woman was looking at the pilot's wings and wiping silent tears from her cheeks. Nononnnonnonononononono! Please don’t let her cry. I can’t handle crying women. Her mind raced for a way out. I could run out and buy Kleenex and by the time I came back she’d be done crying. Leigh heard another sniff and her heart sank. She wouldn’t do that. Again. The last time she’d ran out on a crying woman, the evil bitch had smashed the motel television set to bits and disappeared into the night, leaving Leigh with the bill.
